


Ahoy There

by haldoor



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haldoor/pseuds/haldoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Warnings:</b> Underage: Chekov is seventeen in this story.  Questionable morals: the story features rough sailors capable of rape and violence, and both are mentioned in passing, although nothing graphic is featured<br/><b>Disclaimer:</b> I don't own any of the characters nor the concept of Star Trek; in fact I'm not much of an expert in the 'verse, so anything directly related is suitably vague.  This AU set on board an eighteenth century tall ship featuring the Trek characters is all from my own imagination and I make no money<br/><b>Beta:</b> Once again, <span></span><a href="http://siluria.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://siluria.livejournal.com/"></a><b>siluria</b> looked it over in her inimitable way; thank you, my dear!<br/><b>Author's Notes:</b> This story is set on board the good ship Enterprise, with Capt. James T. Kirk at the helm; Spock is his First Officer, McCoy is the ship's Surgeon, Scott is the Chief Engineer, Chekov is the Cabin Boy and Sulu's role is somewhat ambiguous ;-P</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ahoy There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lozateazer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lozateazer).



> The 'sea-faring AU' prompt came from [](http://lozateazer.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lozateazer.livejournal.com/)**lozateazer** after I offered a reward for something she gave me; it's also two years' birthday gifts! The story evolved from there and I'm afraid it rather got away on me! I hope it fulfils your expectations, love! *squishes*.

As Dr Leonard McCoy boarded the good ship 'Enterprise' for the first time, he found himself thinking that the most incredible things happened at sea. And knowing whom he was travelling with, they probably would this time too.

Frowning as he regarded the captain's new cabin boy scurrying away from the bridge, McCoy shook his head that he'd once again agreed to accompany James Kirk on a trip across the Atlantic. He'd vowed it would be his last if Jim was up to his usual tricks.

The ship was due to sail in less than an hour and he couldn't say what it was about the cabin boy that disturbed him, but he wasn't sure that this lad was right for the ship. Perhaps it was the foreign accent? What was this young man doing in America alone, for a start, although McCoy had no knowledge of his family.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?" Turning at the questioning tone of the captain's voice, McCoy lifted a brow in reply.

"We're about to cast off; have you said your goodbyes?"

"Oh, yes, of course. My wife left some time ago; no sense her hanging around."

"Good, good. Now, Doctor, I need the deck cleared. I'm sure you have medical things to see to in your cabin."

"Captain," McCoy saluted and left. When Jim called him by his title it was time to take the man seriously, though they had been friends for years and things were usually a lot more casual between them.

The 'Enterprise' was a new ship to both of them and McCoy couldn't recall which cabin he’d been assigned. The foreign boy caught his eye as McCoy looked for someone to remind him and McCoy smiled tightly and said, "Chekov, isn't it? Show me to my cabin, if you please."

"Aye, sir." Chekov practically tugged on his curly forelock as he nodded and led McCoy towards the aforementioned cabin. "Will that be all, sir?"

McCoy turned in the cabin and studied the boy as he waited by the door. He was cleaner than the last one, it had to be said, and relatively pretty, but then, Jim didn't choose them if they weren't. Hopefully he would stay clean for more than a few days, and the prettiness wouldn't get washed away by grime and bad handling. One thing McCoy hated was dealing with cabin boys and the like when Jim was sick of the sight of them, although the last one – mercifully – hadn't been too enamoured with the whole business of what being cabin boy to someone like Jim entailed.

McCoy found himself hoping this boy wasn't poxed, though he wasn't showing any obvious signs. A couple of them hadn't lasted the whole sea journey due to complaints they'd brought with them; but what else could you expect from boys who had no other way of making it through life.

"That'll be all."

Chekov bobbed his head and exited the cabin, pulling the door shut after him. McCoy turned back to his bunk and stared at the medical chest next to it. He had the latest equipment and drugs available; Jim never stinted on those sides of things; though nothing had been able to save the poxed boys. Jim was just lucky he'd gotten away with not catching it yet. This time, a new drug that was thought to be effective at quelling the pox was among McCoy's supplies and for a moment he hoped he'd get opportunity to try it out, and then remembering himself again, hoped the opposite.

Swinging his long legs up onto the bunk, McCoy lay back and closed his eyes. It had been a long journey down to the docks from his home in the country that morning. He'd done enough waving goodbye at the shore in the past, and since his wife had already left – probably for good going by the conversation they'd had on the way – there was no reason to watch as the ship left harbour. A nap would serve him far better in the meantime.

~//~

A frantic knocking woke him and for a moment, McCoy's dream seemed to become reality as he gruffly offered, "Come," and at the same time sat up and blinked himself further awake. The young cabin boy burst in at his words and prostrated himself at McCoy's feet. McCoy had difficulty focusing on reality for a moment; but then he realised Chekov was _not_ naked and was, in fact, looking distinctly unhappy.

"It's the first mate, sir. He's taken ill and the captain said for you to come immediately."

It could hardly be sea-sickness; Jim wouldn't send his cabin boy for something so trivial, and anyway, Spock was the last person likely to suffer from something so illogical. McCoy coughed and stood up. "Get up boy. Go ahead and tell Captain Kirk I'm on my way to the bridge."

"Aye, sir." Chekov got to his feet as McCoy did. "Sorry, sir." He backed out of the room apologetically and took off at speed as McCoy followed more sedately.

~//~

"Seriously, Spock; I'd have thought you would have known better than to come on board without notifying me of your condition previously. You have been given a prescription by your own doctor?"

"Of course, and there was no need for you to be called in now. I have it under control."

"I hardly call it under control if the captain himself was worried."

"Nonetheless-"

"Nonetheless, I will need to monitor your health from here on in. Jaundice can be very worrying, and suffering from dizzy spells doesn't reassure me that you have been given the best advice. Frankly, I'm surprised you were allowed to sail with the ship."

"My doctor said it would take no longer than a week or so for the medicine to cure me; he did not inform me that the dizziness could return."

McCoy rolled his eyes. God alone knew what sort of doctor the man was, although the pill box Spock was now showing him contained the medicine he'd expected to see. With some luck, the illness was as short-lived as the other doctor hoped, but McCoy wouldn't take any chances.

"I will still be checking on you. Now rest, and I'll inform the captain you can resume your duties tomorrow."

"But-"

"Captain Kirk will expect your co-operation. If you rest now, you will be fit for duty tomorrow, Spock. If you attempt to return to the bridge now and you fall over again, do you seriously think he will allow you to continue at all? I can always tell him you aren't fit enough to fulfil your obligations on board. We are not so far from port that he won't consider turning around again; I'm sure you see this is your best option."

Spock certainly appeared to be taking his words seriously, though McCoy could tell he wasn't happy.

"As you say, Doctor." He bowed his head, though McCoy didn't for a moment believe the man wanted to stay in his bed. But the threat to his position seemed to be enough for now.

As he stepped out of the door, McCoy gestured to Chekov, who was waiting patiently in the narrow passageway. "Please keep an eye on Mr Spock for the next while; at least until supper. If he leaves his cabin, come and tell me. I'll be on the bridge with the captain for a few moments, and then returning to my cabin until suppertime."

"Aye, sir," Chekov replied, looking nervously up from under his brow.

"Are you all right, Chekov? The captain hasn't set you some other task?"

"No, sir. I... it's just... no, never mind. Sorry, sir." His heavy accent thickened on the last words and McCoy frowned.

"Spit it out, boy; I can't help you if you don't tell me the problem. You're not ill too, are you?"

"Oh no, sir, nothing like that," Chekov said hurriedly, a light blush rising to his down-free cheeks. It made him seem all the younger for a second, and McCoy wondered what on earth his problem could be. "I... the captain, that is... he suggested I speak to you about some form of... something to aid his purpose later... for tonight." The boy swallowed, his face turning even redder.

McCoy looked blankly at Chekov for a second, and then the penny dropped. He huffed a little, amazed at Jim's audacity. Of course, he wouldn't be able to help himself from rubbing in how pretty and eager his young cabin boy was, would he? Not to mention how quickly and easily his wants were addressed; sod the boy's embarrassment at letting the doctor know exactly what he'd be doing that night.

"I'll bring something with me to supper and slip it to you, all right? Although, you know... no, don't mind that. I'll tell the captain myself."

Chekov looked even more stricken, though there was no reason for him to be; Jim must have sent him – the boy wouldn't have come off his own bat, and there was no reason for him to lie. "It's all right; I'll speak to him privately and you shouldn't have to ask for it again."

"Thank you, sir." Chekov's relieved look made him smile. The boy would go far if he kept his head.

~//~

Spock appeared at dinner, looking slightly less yellow, and more his usual self. Chekov served them, along with another foreign-looking youth who made McCoy wonder where Jim was searching for crew these days. McCoy managed to slip Chekov the pottle of grease surreptitiously in between courses when he was clearing away dishes. The boy whispered 'thank you' as he pocketed it and McCoy smiled up and into Jim's twinkling eyes as he moved away.

"Now, who's for an after-dinner drink and a cigar?" Jim asked, looking around the table.

"I think I'll be giving it a miss," said Scotty, the only other officer on board. "I have a wee problem to see to in the lower deck, and it canna wait."

This could mean anything from Scotty having to caulk a leak to there being some form of card game he had a wager on, but no-one said anything as he excused himself and left the room. McCoy looked pointedly at Spock, who stood up too.

"Captain, I don't believe drinking or smoking will be helpful to my recovery. I too, must take my leave. My watch is at dawn, I believe, and I should take what rest I can before then. Good night gentlemen."

"Just me and you then, Bones," Jim smiled, offering the cigar box to McCoy then taking one himself. "Chekov, pour brandy for us, then you can turn back my bed. Mr Sulu, please tell the Quartermaster that he excelled himself tonight. Let's hope that's a sign for the rest of the voyage huh, Bones?" Offering this last to McCoy, the captain turned back to Sulu. "Are you on duty tonight, Mr Sulu?"

"No, sir, I'm on Mr Spock's watch at dawn."

"Good to hear." Jim looked at McCoy again and tilted his chin in Sulu's direction. "Perhaps Dr. McCoy requires help with his... medical supplies tonight."

McCoy frowned and offered Sulu a concerned look. He wouldn't put it past Jim to have suggested Sulu warm his bed, but more likely he simply wanted to embarrass McCoy into asking the young sailor himself. "That's... uh... not necessary. Thank you, Mr Sulu; Captain." He scowled meaningfully in Jim's direction.

Chekov appeared at McCoy's shoulder, his breathing audible. McCoy looked up sharply and then realised that Chekov was offering him the brandy Jim had asked him to pour. There was an expression on Chekov's face that McCoy couldn't read and he narrowed his eyes as he accepted the glass. "Thank you, Chekov."

"Yes, thank you, Chekov and Sulu. You may leave us now." Jim was positively glowing with pleasure. Damn the man! He loved this little game and played it almost every single time they sailed together.

As soon as the door shut behind the two young men, McCoy growled, "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a solicitor. I'll leave that business up to you."

Jim laughed and swirled the liquid in his brandy snifter. "I was trying my best to help you."

"I don't need your help, thank you."

"If you say so, but I could swear you'd frown less and be more relaxed if you gave in to it. Your wife can hardly complain; you're at sea for four months of every six."

"I don't find it necessary. Just because you can't control yourself doesn't mean every man's the same. Besides, she complains anyway."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "You haven't been with a boy yet that I know of; what's she complaining about?"

"You said it," McCoy replied, swallowing a gulp of brandy and savouring the way it burned down his throat. "At sea for four months of every six. She's had enough. She was heading for her father's estate when she left the docks. Don't think she'll be coming home when I return, either."

"You'll divorce?"

"Fairly likely, I'd say. Of course I'll have to instigate an affair to make it work, but I'm sure I can arrange something."

Jim laughed again, but with little mirth. "Pity you couldn't make it one of the lads."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, quite. You'd get your way and I'd look like a bloody fool. Not going to happen; I can assure you."

"I could suggest some ladies in town who'd be willing to help out if that'd suit you better?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can. Jim, I hardly need your help with this. Let me sort it out when we get back in port, all right?"

"Whatever you say. But I still say that Sulu looks pretty tasty. You really have no idea what you're missing."

McCoy quirked a lip, then puffed hard on his cigar. He was fairly sure he had a good idea of _exactly_ what he was missing.

~//~

Knocking woke him again, and despite the rolling of the ship, it took McCoy a few minutes to figure out where he was and that the noise wasn't part of his dream.

"Who is it?" he growled when he finally worked out what was going on.

"Chekov, sir. Please may I come in?"

"Chekov? What do you want?" McCoy scowled as he dragged himself out of the bunk and stumbled the three steps to the door. Wrenching it open, his expression lightened as he took in the frightened-looking lad in the doorway. "What's happened, boy?"

"Sir, Dr McCoy, I'm sorry… I…" Chekov looked both ways down the hallway and then asked, wrapping his arms about himself, "Please may I come in?"

The boy only wore a thin shift to his knees and while he didn't seem hurt, McCoy could see he was scared out of his wits. "Come inside, just for a minute, at least."

Gesturing the boy in behind him, McCoy looked down the hallway himself; the last thing he needed was anyone reporting to the captain that he'd taken the cabin boy in after he'd been thrown out of the captain's bunk at some godforsaken hour of the morning.

"Now, what's this all about?" he asked as he shut the door behind him and lit the lantern before turning to face Chekov.

Chekov rushed into his arms and clung to him as if all he'd been waiting for was a pair of open arms. His snivelling was heart-breaking – if that sort of thing affected you. McCoy had rarely dealt with crying sailors though, and wasn't sure what to make of it. He stood there, stiff and unyielding, hands held away from Chekov as the boy cried into his nightgown. When his surprise died down, he patted the lad's back awkwardly before pulling Chekov away from him and helping him sit down on the bunk.

"Tell me what happened?" McCoy frowned, sure that Jim must have tried something the kid hadn't heard of before, or else he'd suggested handing him on to the crew after he'd had his way with Chekov. Neither would surprise McCoy.

"I knew what he wanted," Chekov told him, sniffing as McCoy handed him a handkerchief and sat gingerly down beside him. "I thought I could do it; I know enough to realise it was expected. But…"

A thought occurred to McCoy. "How old are you, Chekov? Where are your family?"

"I am seventeen, sir. My… parents died on the ship over to America. They were taken with dysentery and there was nothing the ship's doctor could do. I used much of our money to pay for the medicine… it was an ague which took many passengers. I don't know why I was spared.

"My father had hoped for a better life for me here; I was to go to university." He pronounced the word 'uniwersity' and McCoy huffed lightly at it. "Once I arrived in America, I tried to find a place to live, but I was attacked late at night and the rest of my father's savings were taken. I had no one to turn to; nowhere to go." He wrung the handkerchief between white-fingered hands. "I was hired for this voyage by Mr Spock soon after."

McCoy snorted to himself; it was typical of Jim to have his first mate procuring innocents for his bed these days. The boy could hardly have understood what he was getting himself into despite his words. Obviously he wasn't just the usual lad from the streets with experience behind him; not if his father had money for his education. "Don't worry; I will speak to the captain and explain. You don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with."

"No, no, you misunderstand." Chekov grabbed his hand tightly, as if Bones had been intending to head to the captain's room right now to set him straight. "It's not that I do not want to… it is just… I don't know what to do. The captain… he thought I would… that I knew _how_."

"Oh, for heaven's sake." McCoy tried to prise the boy's fingers off his hand before he lost all feeling in it. "If that's all it is, why don't you just tell him? He'll show you what to do."

"I don't want him to!" Chekov cried, his voice breaking again. "I want _you_ to! I…I…"

McCoy looked at the boy in horror. What on earth? He wanted McCoy over Jim? Why would he even think McCoy was interested… oh, wait. The conversation at dinner. No doubt Jim had been suggesting all manner of things ever since the lad had arrived. Speaking of which, if Chekov had run out on Jim, why hadn't the man followed? Usually, if he had his eye on some pretty young thing, he'd never let the kid escape so easily. "Look, Chekov, you don't understand. This… this isn't how all men act at sea. I have a wife."

"Captain Kirk said men with wives knew the most; how to be gentle with someone if they are new to this."

Good Lord, what was the captain filling the boy's head with? Something was niggling in the back of McCoy's head about this; something was off.

"Stay here, Chekov. I'll be back soon."

Before the boy could stop him, McCoy strode out of the cabin and stomped his way down the hallway to Jim's room. Not even bothering to knock, he swung the unlocked door open wide and coughed as he took in the sight of Kirk slaking his lust in a very old-fashioned way. A low wick in the lantern made Sulu's naked skin shine with the sweat on it as he rocked back and forth on his hands and knees while Jim’s cock sawed in and out of his body.

"I should have realised that was all a double-blind." McCoy pitched his voice low, but he knew both men had heard.

Sulu went rigid and looked over his shoulder in shock. Jim paused, but stroked the smoothness of Sulu's back carelessly as he smirked over his shoulder at McCoy. "I know you won't believe me, Bones, but I was trying to do you a favour. The boy wants it; wants you! Take advantage while you can! Virgins like him aren't exactly throwing themselves in your path."

"I have no intention of doing anything beyond mopping up his tears, and you know it."

Jim dipped his hips and thrust hard into Sulu, who whimpered but made no move to extricate himself, despite McCoy's watchful eyes.

"Oh come on, Bones. You can't hold out forever. I saw the way you looked at him. Go on, let go for once." Several short thrusts punctuated his words and McCoy couldn't help noticing the way Sulu wiggled under Jim like he was enjoying every movement, though the man was obviously uncomfortable at being discovered with the captain.

"I'm not staying to debate this with you; not while you're so obviously enjoying yourself. We'll speak again later."

McCoy bowed out of the room and shut the door on Jim's final words.

"You know you want it, Bones. Yes, Sulu… exactly like that... oh yeah."

McCoy felt a nudge of desire low in his gut, despite himself. Jim had absolutely no scruples and no sense of embarrassment either. This wasn't the first time McCoy had walked in on him in flagrante and it was unlikely to be the last. At least Sulu hadn't been sucking his cock… remembering the last time that had happened sent a shot of need straight to McCoy's own member, and he pressed the stirring through his breeches as he returned to his cabin, muttering.

Taking a deep breath as he stood outside the door for a couple of moments, McCoy finally felt able to face the pretty boy waiting on the other side.

"Are you all right now?" he asked gruffly as Chekov looked up at him from where he was hunched on McCoy's bunk. Oh, God! The boy looked so… so incredibly alluring in the dim light. Fuck Jim and his ability to read people's inner needs so well. But no, no, he couldn't. It was beyond reasonable for Jim to expect he'd take this innocent's virginity, no matter that he seemed to want it.

"Yes, I think so."

"The tears were a good touch. I hope the captain's giving you extra for this. If he doesn't, then I'll speak to him again. Please leave now."

"Tears? Leave? I don't… understand. The captain…"

"You don't need to pretend any more, Chekov. I know exactly what's going on and I have no intention of playing the captain's little game."

"Captain Kirk plays a game? I thought… I thought he wanted to… how is it? Screw with me?"

McCoy huffed. "Yes, to _screw_ with you – or more precisely, with _me_ – is exactly what he wants. And now you've played your part in it, perhaps you can tell him I have no need of his help any further… or yours."

"Please! Please, Dr McCoy! I do not understand. What have I done? Do you not… you don't screw with boys; is that it?"

"That's right, Chekov. Whatever Captain Kirk led you to believe is incorrect."

Chekov didn't say anything and although his look was sorrowful, McCoy wasn't falling for it. He pushed the cabin boy out the door and shut it behind him. Waiting for a few moments to ensure he could hear Chekov walking away, McCoy let out a breath of relief, turned the lamp down and returned to his bed alone.

~//~

The next morning, when McCoy was dealing with a minor injury one of the sailors had sustained from not letting go of a piece of rigging fast enough, another man came to tell him the captain wanted him on the bridge. He finished stitching the wound and gathered his things slowly. Jim Kirk was the last person he wanted to see right now, but he still had a job to do and couldn't disobey an order.

"You needed me, Captain?"

"Yes, Bones. Mr Sulu, keep the ship on this course, will you?" Jim directed, patting the man on the shoulder as he moved towards McCoy.

Sulu carefully did not look in McCoy's direction, and there was a slight pinkness to his face that McCoy was sure wasn't his natural colour. Jim drew McCoy out of Sulu's hearing and grinned. "Now, tell me you changed your mind after you left my cabin last night?"

"You have a damned cheek, Jim. I didn't change my mind and I won't, no matter how hard you push the boy in my direction. I've told you before, no matter how long we're at sea, I have no intention of taking advantage of anyone so young and inexperienced."

"Why didn't you say? Sulu would have been just as willing, and I'm sure you realise inexperienced is the last thing he is. You could easily have agreed to that at dinner, or did you think he was an innocent too when I suggested it?"

McCoy grit his teeth, glancing at the back of Sulu's head to ensure the man wasn't paying attention. "I don't want an innocent – as you put it – _or_ someone experienced; I don't _need_ anyone warming my bed. I'm perfectly capable of abstaining for however long we happen to be away from port."

"Well, that's where I disagree with you, Bones. It's clear you're far too tense, and you need some help relaxing."

"What little spare time I have is of no concern to you, Jim. I will take care of my needs as I see fit." McCoy could see little point to the discussion; it was the same old argument. "Now, if you have no need of me for something medical-"

"Bones, when have I ever had anything but your best interests at heart?"

"You take great amusement in this whole thing, don't you?" McCoy was getting angrier by the moment, though he knew it only amused Jim all the more. "Well, I am through being your entertainment. Push your pretty little Russian in someone else's direction."

Jim smiled and held up his hands in supplication. "I didn't push him, I swear. He offered to come to you for advice. Said he wasn't ready to do anything with me yet, and a doctor's instruction would help."

"That's bullshit, Jim and you know it. You manipulated him into asking to visit me, and you implied I'd be interested in showing him exactly what you wanted him for."

"Believe what you want. But I can assure you, Bones, he's been looking at you almost as much as you've been watching him since we set sail. As far as I see it, him ending up in your bed is as inevitable as the sun setting every night."

"Oh, spare me. Now, I have things to do. Can I go now?

"Yes, you can. I'll see you tonight at dinner."

"As long as we don't have to rehash this conversation again."

Jim huffed in amusement. "Go heal someone, Dr McCoy."

McCoy frowned deeply as he left the bridge. Jim was promising nothing and McCoy was fairly certain this wasn't going to be the last he heard of it.

~//~

"Dr McCoy, may I speak with you?"

McCoy looked up from where he was dressing a wound on some idiot who'd managed to get his head in the way of the beam as the ship jibed. Chekov looked apologetic and desperate at the same time.

"Please, sir?" he added when McCoy didn't answer.

"Give me a minute, Chekov." McCoy returned his attention to the foolish sailor he was attending to and quickly finished tying the dressing in place. "Now, keep to your bunk for the rest of today and come and see me in the morning," he instructed the man while Chekov waited patiently behind him.

"Yes, sir," the sailor replied and gingerly got to his feet before wobbling out of the cabin and slowly making off down the passageway.

"Chekov. What can I do for you?" he tried, hoping the boy wanted something medical, though he knew it was a vain hope.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night."

"That's not necessary, Chekov."

"I need to do it, sir. And to explain that I did not know the captain played a game with you."

"Thank you." McCoy's voice was gruff, but he was relieved to know Chekov wasn't complicit in Jim's tricks. "You will learn, Chekov, if you are on the Enterprise for any length of time, that this is a game Captain Kirk likes to play very much. He has known me a long time and takes great pleasure from annoying me since I do not enjoy the same entertainment as he does. If you have no interest in such things, I suggest you keep well out of his way."

Chekov's brow furrowed with concern. "If I do not sleep with him, what will he do?"

McCoy snorted, remembering Sulu's obvious enjoyment with what was being done to him last night. "I don't think you need worry about that."

"But I… there is…" Chekov paused, licking his lips and gazing about the cabin as if for answers in the timbers. "Others will want to do things with me if I am not with the captain at night."

McCoy blinked. He'd forgotten about that. No doubt the crew had kept their hands off the cabin boy; knowing he was earmarked for Jim, they would be in serious trouble if any of them hurt Chekov in any way. But if Jim chose to make him sleep elsewhere, any lusty sailors in need of relief would start pestering Chekov, and none could be trusted to be especially kind.

"What did you do last night? After you left my cabin?"

"I went back to the captain's cabin, but I could not go in; I could not disappoint him." Chekov hung his head, his cheeks flushing. "So I went to the sail-room and slept in the spare canvases. I could not go to the hammocks; someone could be waiting for me and I did not want that. I cannot do that every night though; someone will find me."

"Jesus." McCoy was sure this would play into Jim's hands as well as anything he'd tried so far. He knew McCoy would feel sorry for the boy and consider letting him sleep in his room. But there was little else he could do unless he convinced Jim to bed Chekov after all. It was a valid choice, as McCoy was fairly sure Sulu could take care of himself with the sailors, but it would mean Chekov losing his virginity.

"Look, Chekov… this is not an invitation to anything unsavoury, and you will have to sleep on the floor, but until I figure out something better, you can spend the nights in my cabin."

McCoy was going to end up killing Jim Kirk; he was fairly certain of it.

~//~

McCoy wasn't looking forward to reaching his cabin that night after dinner. He stayed with Kirk, Scotty and Spock for some time after they'd eaten – long past Chekov being sent away for the night, though Sulu remained at Jim's side for the duration, ostensibly to pour drinks for them, but the light touches Jim kept bestowing on him when he knew McCoy was watching made it clear the man was still on Jim's menu for after hours.

Eventually though, McCoy knew he'd have to stumble back to his cabin. He dreaded how he'd find Chekov, and his mind picturing the boy in various states of undress wasn't helping any.

Spock left first, and then Scotty soon after. Within minutes of the engineer’s departure, Jim had Sulu in his lap. The young man seemed a little less embarrassed tonight, but McCoy was no more interested in watching a repeat performance of last night than he was keen to find Chekov spread out and waiting in his own bunk.

Scratch that thought, he told himself as he retreated from the officer's mess a few minutes later. The image it brought to mind wasn't helping at all. Reluctantly, he headed in the direction of his bed. Like last night, he took a moment to compose himself before entering the cabin.

To McCoy's surprise, Chekov was sitting on the floor on his meagre bedding, well covered by his shift and his bedroll, reading by lamplight. He looked up when McCoy entered, smiling angelically. McCoy gulped at the beauty of him in this light, and quickly made his way to his bunk.

"Shall I help you undress, doctor?" Chekov asked, putting his book down and making to rise.

"No!" McCoy barked, then smiled and gestured awkwardly to negate the vehemence of his reply. "I mean, as you were, Chekov. I am capable of dealing with my own wardrobe. Go back to your book if you wish. What are you reading?"

"Aye, Sir." Chekov looked almost disappointed, but he picked up his book and opened it again. "It's a navigation guide. My father wanted me to study the stars; they've always fascinated me. It's in Russian, but it's all I have." His eyes clouded over as the recollection took over. "Father said I could study at university and then I could try to obtain a commission as a navigator in the navy. Coming to sea like this… is my only way of achieving that position now – I doubt with the navy now, but navigation would still be good on a ship like this – though it must take longer, I am thinking."

"Yes," was all McCoy was able to come up with. He could see the book was in some other language, though he wouldn't have known Russian from Greek. Beginning to disrobe, he nodded at Chekov. "Tell me more about your family." He wondered if it might be painful for the boy, but decided the words he'd said so far about his father indicated that he perhaps needed this kind of freedom to remember the family he'd lost. Besides, McCoy was genuinely interested.

The boy spoke with such love and conviction about his parents for the next while that McCoy quite forgot the time. He was actually enjoying hearing Chekov speak. By now he'd managed to get into his own night shirt without exposing too much of himself, and settle comfortably on his side in his bunk to watch the young sailor as he spoke.

Finally, Chekov's yawning made him realise it was well past time they both bedded down for the night.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me, Chekov," he told the boy, "but I think we should douse the lamp. Are you on first shift tomorrow?"

"I am, sir."

"Sleep well then, and try not to disturb me when you wake."

"Aye, sir."

~//~

Several days went by in similar fashion. Jim didn't let up on the ribbing at dinner or any other opportunity he found to do so, but McCoy did his best to ignore it. It wasn't easy, considering how McCoy found himself increasingly keen to get back to his own cabin and Chekov's company each night. The boy seemed to have a natural ability with story-telling, despite his awkward accent, and McCoy, normally fairly taciturn, was enjoying hearing about life in Russia and about Chekov's family, even going so far as encouraging his tales by asking questions. Chekov seemed to come more and more out of his shell too, like McCoy's interest had sparked something deep within him.

The days seemed brighter to McCoy, though he couldn't be sure it was actually becoming warmer despite their progress towards more equatorial regions. One such afternoon, as he made a circumnavigation of the boat for a little exercise after checking on Spock's current state of health, he passed a couple of men mending sails. At first he paid them little attention, but upon moving out of their sight heard their guffaws and paused, wondering what ribald tale could be amusing them so.

"I heard he doesn't even make use of the boy. Shame to waste all that pretty, fair skin."

McCoy frowned at the words, wondering. They couldn't possibly be talking about him, could they?

"And that ass; so rounded and just begging for it. If the doctor doesn't use it, perhaps _someone_ needs to."

"Be careful; he's only just gone past. If you want to chart those waters, I'd be mighty careful when and where you do it."

One of the men snorted. "If he's not frigging in the boy's rigging, why should he care?"

"True enough."

McCoy heard them both laugh again after that. His frown deepened and he went on his way; he would have to warn Chekov to mind his back. He wondered where the rumour that he wasn't using Chekov had come from, but only one source would be close to knowing the truth: Captain Jim Kirk.

Anger heated McCoy's chest as he made his way to the bridge. It was a low blow to spread something like that, just when McCoy thought he'd helped keep the boy from the uncouthness of sailors spared the company of women for far too long.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, Jim?" McCoy growled upon sighting his friend at the wheel.

"Steering the ship?" Jim offered with a curious grin.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"No? Well, you'll have to forgive my ignorance, Bones, but you'll have to explain further."

"Chekov. The boy was safe when the crew thought he was in my cabin for… for my… gratification," he stumbled over the words, feeling his face heat up some, "but someone has put it about that it isn't so. You do know that makes him fair game, don't you? Why would you put him in that position?"

Jim laughed. "I didn't tell anyone anything! And I'm amazed and amused how it worries you not at all while the crew _think_ he's your bum boy, but the minute they believe you're a fine upstanding man without designs on the pretty young thing sleeping in your cabin, you're back to being indignant Doctor McCoy. And I'd have him in _any_ position, for the record."

McCoy shut his mouth with a snap. He hadn't realised he had thought that way. "Don't try clouding the issue, Jim. That boy's too young to be bending over for just any coarse sailor; they won't care if they do damage, and once again I'll be left picking up the pieces."

"Why don't you accept the inevitable then? Don't drop them."

"Drop them? Drop what?"

"The pieces. Screw him before he becomes 'pieces'. Once the crew _know_ he's yours, they'll leave him alone."

"Would it ever occur to you to teach your crew a little discipline? Let them know that anyone caught with a boy like him will wind up feeling the lash?"

"You think they'd be caught? Bones, you have no idea how stealthy men can be when they're desperate. Besides, you do know hypocrisy isn't something I generally practice?"

"Dammit, Jim, there has to be something you can do. This boy doesn't deserve what could happen to him simply because he's young and attractive."

"Ah-ha! So you do find him attractive; I knew it!"

Jim Kirk was the most infuriating man McCoy had ever met. McCoy swore under his breath in annoyance. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"I don't know why you fight it so. The boy's infatuated with you; he'd be happy to warm your bed instead of the cold cabin floor, you know."

"If you're not going to take this seriously, Jim, I can't vouch for the lad's safety. Be it on your head if he gets hurt." McCoy scowled, able to picture all too well what that could be like, and turned away to leave the bridge.

"You have the solution in your hands, Bones. I can't offer anything nearly as satisfying to all parties… unless you think he'd be better off back in my cabin."

McCoy spun at the final words and glared at Jim. "That's what got us into this mess in the first place. I'm a doctor, not a nursemaid. If you can't choose your crew with the head on your shoulders in future, this may well be our last journey together."

If he could have slammed his way off the bridge, he'd have done it; as it was he had to make do with stomping away in the same ill humour as he'd arrived.

~//~

"Chekov…" McCoy wasn't even sure how to warn the boy, and he blinked stupidly when the young man beamed up at him expectantly.

They were in his cabin that night, readying themselves for sleep. McCoy hesitated, and then shook his head. There was no easy way to do this. "I'd suggest you don't wander the ship alone, Chekov."

"Sir?"

"There are some… unscrupulous members of the crew who…" He waved a hand, trying to think of the right wording.

"Who want to screw with me?"

McCoy blinked again. Had Chekov heard the rumours?

"You are thinking I have not heard; that these men have not made any approach yet. I am not so young and stupid, Doctor. I have heard them talk. I am grateful to you for letting me stay with you though you will not screw with me." His head was tilted and his expression stoic. "If they try anything, I will tell them I am…"

"You do realise they've left you alone while they think you're… with me? Much as they can be rough, these men respect the officers; respect the order of things. Captain Kirk has instilled that in them and they know there would be punishment if they try anything. The problem right now is-"

Chekov cut him off before he could finish. "They have been told you don't touch me."

McCoy scowled as he looked at Chekov, but the boy had lowered his head to study his own knees intently as he pulled them nearer under his bedding. How quickly word got around on board a ship. McCoy would have done anything not to be having such a conversation with this lad, and he felt his chest tighten at the thought of Chekov having to fend off unwelcome advances.

"If you ask it… I would be willing, Doctor." Chekov still wasn't looking at him, but his voice sounded steady and determined.

"Yes, yes…" McCoy felt cornered, something he'd thought he was past. They'd managed nicely until now and he'd been enjoying Chekov's company without sex raising its ugly head.

"But you're not interested. I understand." Chekov looked up at last, disappointment showing through the brave face he'd put on.

"It's not…"

"I am not what you want in a bed-mate. I understand this, Doctor McCoy. Please, do not concern yourself with my… problems. You do not need to protect me. I will do what I must."

McCoy frowned. "Do what you must? What do you mean?"

Chekov shrugged. "I will do what it takes to satisfy them. I'm not helpless. What they want… I can…" He gulped, then tried to smile. "I want what they want, anyway. Perhaps one of them will be kind."

"No!"

"No? But… some of them do not seem so cruel. I… It's true I am inexperienced, but I can learn."

"The whole point of you staying here with me was that you weren't supposed to have to do that, Chekov! Don't you see?" McCoy felt his chest tighten further, and then something more occurred to him. " _Has_ someone approached you?"

Chekov looked at him for a moment before answering. "There is one man who asked me if it was true I was not your boy in all ways. He tells me he will look after me if I wish it. That he won't let anyone else be with me if I do what he wants."

A white hot anger started to pulse behind McCoy's eyes and he sat up in his bunk. "Who is this man?" He'd find the bastard right now and punch him six ways to Sunday. He had no right to suggest such a thing to Chekov.

"Doctor, I don't think…"

" _Who_ is he?"

"Midshipman. His name is Willis. He seems like a nice man." Chekov didn't look too sure, and McCoy wasn't about to let this Willis anywhere near him.

"I need to have a word with him. Where's his hammock?"

"No, please, Doctor, that's not necessary!" Chekov scrambled out of his bedroll and crawled towards McCoy before he could stand up, kneeling at his feet and clutching at his legs to keep him where he was on the bunk's edge.

"What are you doing?" McCoy tried to prize Chekov's fingers off, but the boy seemed desperate to make him understand something. "I don't want him doing anything to you. You-"

"Please… you don't?" Chekov looked at him curiously, though he hadn't released his hold on McCoy.

"He shouldn't… you are… I don't like… that is…" McCoy felt his face heating up and he stopped speaking as Chekov stared at him like he'd suddenly understood something.

"You don't want him to touch me because…" There was a small smile starting on Chekov's face, but he didn't finish the sentence. He merely looked at McCoy like he couldn't believe what he was just beginning to realise.

McCoy stared back at him uncertainly for a while; neither one spoke for a few minutes.

Then: "Tell me why you really do not want him touching me, Doctor McCoy, please?"

"Because you are young and inexperienced and…"

"And?"

"Dammit…" Chekov's touch was like a sweet agony, his fingers relaxing into a caress on McCoy's legs through the thinness of his nightshirt. "I want…"

Chekov moved nearer, his fresh young features closer to McCoy's face than he'd seen them so far. His heart began to thump, and McCoy was sure it was loud enough for Chekov to hear.

"What do you want?" Chekov's voice was barely louder than a whisper but the question seemed to offer so much.

"I want… I want… _you_."

"Then why don't you take me?"

McCoy shut his eyes. This wasn't right. His head told him it wasn't the right thing – the proper thing – but his body wanted this so very much.

"I can't…"

"Why not?" Chekov's whisper was so very near that the words tickled his ears, and his lips were so close that McCoy could feel the hairs on his neck stand up at the puff of warm air accompanying the words. "I want you to take me. I am yours; only yours."

"I… I…" It was too much.

And no one else should have him.

McCoy opened his eyes slowly as he tried to focus on what his head said was the right thing to do. But the beauty of the young man and his clear, blue eyes staring so intently into McCoy's own completely cut off all thought.

Without another word he leaned forward, bringing their lips into contact. The softness was almost unexpected, and the tiny sound Chekov made at the connection made McCoy hesitate, but then Chekov reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling them back together and deepening the kiss.

McCoy moaned into Chekov's mouth, drawing the boy into the bunk with him. Chekov's hands pushed at his nightshirt, his rough fingers stroking at McCoy's thighs as they lay down. McCoy drew back from the kiss, swallowing hard as he rolled the boy under him and finally let his hands caress the virtually hairless but firm muscles of Chekov's legs and stomach.

Scrabbling against him, Chekov pulled off his shift and began unbuttoning McCoy's nightshirt. McCoy let him pull it off and then their naked bodies were pressed together. His cock pulsing with need, McCoy grasped the boy's buttocks, pulling him nearer and grinding their groins together as he found the boy's mouth again.

Chekov whimpered, but the hardness of his young prick made it obvious he was more than willing. His hands wrapped around McCoy and they rocked into each other, the excitement building in each of them obvious. McCoy could feel Chekov's heart thumping erratically; his own wasn't much different. The taste of the boy was exquisite and he couldn't get enough. Unsure how he'd held back thus far, McCoy ran his tongue down Chekov's neck, and allowed a gap for his hand to search between them.

The gasp Chekov let out when he found the lad's cock and wrapped his hand around it urged him onward, though Chekov was muttering something he didn't quite get; perhaps in Russian.

"Doctor, let me…" The words finally became clear, and McCoy pulled back to listen properly. The boy smiled at him, then slid sideways and lowered his head along McCoy's torso, dropping a kiss every few inches as McCoy lay on his back on the narrow bunk.

McCoy's breath caught as Chekov's pink lips neared his straining erection and the boy looked up at him with needy eyes. "I want this, Doctor McCoy; please let me?"

Unable to stop himself, McCoy nodded, transfixed by the sight of Chekov's tongue as it circled his cockhead. "Ohhhh…"

Then Chekov was covering the whole glans with his soft, wet mouth and suckling like it was his mama's teat and he was starved. The pleasure that shot through McCoy had him closing his eyes and rolling his hips into the action. He let a hand find the back of the boy's head and ran his fingers through the soft curls as Chekov did his best to blow McCoy's mind as well as his cock.

Untested he might be, but Chekov seemed to instinctively know exactly what to do to give McCoy maximum pleasure, and finally he had to push the boy away before he let it all go.

"Please…" Chekov whined, trying to get his mouth back onto McCoy's cock.

"No… no, you… you don't want that," McCoy struggled to tell him.

Chekov looked at him petulantly as he kneeled up, his own young prick pink and rigid. McCoy reached for it, stroking it gently and causing the boy to lose the sulky look instantly.

"Come," McCoy tugged lightly, his other hand at Chekov's waist, urging him forward.

Chekov drew in a breath and nodded, shifting to straddle McCoy. Impressed that the boy understood what he was aiming for, McCoy smiled at him and reached behind himself, letting Chekov go as he sought the small pottle of grease that had been abandoned some days earlier when Chekov first came to his cabin. McCoy had to roll his eyes at himself for knowing exactly where it was, and he tried not to think how he had probably known he would give into this eventually.

By the time he turned back, Chekov was on his knees over him, looking at him expectantly through vivid blue eyes. McCoy smiled at him lopsidedly and held the pottle up. "You ready? It may sting at first, but I'll try to be gentle."

"I know you will, Doctor."

The trust in those eyes was stunning, and McCoy felt a tightness in his chest at the boy's willingness. He wanted to ask if he was sure, but Chekov had already confirmed his desires and certainly didn't seem any more hesitant now.

Something else was bothering him about the situation though. "Call me Leonard."

"Yes… Leonard. I am ready."

McCoy nodded and dipped a couple of fingers into the pot, drawing out a generous glob of grease and reaching for Chekov.

"It will be easier if I turn about, no?" Chekov smiled and shifted himself before McCoy could agree or not, but he was right, for this part at least.

Nodding again, McCoy put a hand on Chekov's lower back as the boy leaned forward, exposing his perfect virgin asshole for McCoy's inspection. McCoy closed his eyes momentarily, sure he was going to hell for wanting this so much. Opening them again, he slowly circled his greased fingers around the pucker, eliciting a sharp gasp from Chekov.

Circling the hand he had on Chekov's back in reassurance, McCoy spent a few more minutes simply circling and stroking over the spot he was dying to plunder. He was a patient man though, and no matter how needy he felt, he truly wanted this to be a good experience for his young friend.

Chekov was obviously getting impatient though, as he started to whimper and rock backwards, like he knew exactly where McCoy's fingers should be buried.

Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, McCoy gently dipped a finger-tip inside the waiting hole, shifting himself beside Chekov so he could slide his other hand around Chekov's slim hips and down to grasp his prick in his hand.

"Ohhh…" Chekov sounded as breathless as McCoy felt.

McCoy slowly pushed his finger deeper, gently pumping the heated cock in even strokes to give Chekov something good to take his mind off any discomfit or strangeness at the action at his rear.

"More, please…" Chekov moaned, arching his back.

McCoy's finger seemed about as deep as it was going to reach, so he began gliding it in and out carefully, astounded at the heat and the way Chekov was using his internal muscles to tighten and loosen convulsively against the digit. A groan escaped McCoy as he thought on how that would feel around his cock, and he drew back enough to add a second finger.

Chekov's response was delightful: he rocked harder, tightening the muscles and then releasing them enough for McCoy's fingers to slide deeper. He curled them, stroking the boy's cock more firmly with his other hand in counterpoint to the action.

The gasp from Chekov as McCoy found his prostate was almost too much to bear, and McCoy's cock pulsed in desperate need as he circled his fingers, stretching the channel in readiness for what he knew would be a shock should he give in to that need.

"Please, please…" Chekov begging, turning his liquid eyes back over his shoulder at McCoy.

"Yes, now, if you can turn onto your back?" McCoy asked, slipping his fingers out and gently guiding the boy down to the bedding. He moved over him and leaned down to kiss at Chekov's soft lips as he continued to fondle his prick. Moving away to smile at Chekov's blindingly brilliant look of trust, he dipped into the pottle for more grease, slathering it generously over his own cock and hissing at the touch. "Are you ready? I'll take it slow; just tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured, dipping in to peck at the delicious lips again.

"Mmhmm," Chekov assented, reaching to hold McCoy over him, and spreading his legs easily. "Your… your… please?"

McCoy wasn't sure what Chekov was trying to say beyond how much he wanted this, and there was no way he could think on it more; his need was too much. "Here." McCoy angled his cock against the boy's crack and slid the tip down, a groan escaping as it nudged against the place he so desperately needed it to be.

And then, at last, he was slipping slowly inside the boy's body; his cock sticking slightly as it met the ring of muscles inside. Chekov tilted his hips as McCoy pushed further, allowing it past with a combined groan from them both. McCoy stopped dead, seeking Chekov's eyes and holding his gaze questioningly until Chekov breathed out and smiled, giving a nod for McCoy to continue.

It was divine; the grease easing the way perfectly, and the pulse of those muscles tightening and relaxing against his firm flesh had McCoy panting to move faster, but still he held back. Hurting this beautiful youth was the last thing he wanted, and he had come so far without doing so yet.

"More, please, please, now!" Chekov bit out, arching up under him and gripping the back of McCoy's neck more harshly.

McCoy nodded, and slid back a little before dipping in deeper, gaining confidence to move faster as Chekov responded with an erotic groan that hit McCoy somewhere inside his heart, judging by the feeling deep inside him.

"Yes, yes…" McCoy couldn't help himself. He gripped Chekov's hips more tightly, seeking a steady rhythm.

Chekov's eyes were wide, but he didn't seem to be in pain, and McCoy tried slowing down, but that only made him frown. "Okay?"

"Please, please, don't… don't stop!" Chekov gasped, reaching between them to stroke at his own leaking cock.

McCoy wanted to do what Chekov was doing, but his own pleasure was rising fast. Seeing the boy squeeze his own prick hit him low and hard, his orgasm spiralling up and spilling out of him with a rush that he hadn't expected. Panting hard, McCoy thrust three, four more times, Chekov's body tightening unbelievably around him as he hit his own peak and his milky seed jetted out between them.

McCoy groaned as he collapsed down on the spent boy, his come spreading coolly over both of their skins as they sought each other's mouths and tangled their limbs together in bliss. McCoy's flaccid prick slipped from Chekov's body as they rolled to face each other, and he sighed contentedly into the boy's skin.

"That… that was amazing, Doctor," Chekov whispered, kissing eagerly at his collarbone. "I knew I wanted it, but I didn't know how wonderful it could be."

McCoy offered the soft lips another gentle kiss and smiled at him. "You must call me Leonard when we are alone."

"Mmhmm, Leonard." Chekov sounded half-asleep already, and yawned as if to emphasise it.

"Sleep now… What is your first name?" It seemed disturbing suddenly that McCoy hadn't thought to ask it before.

"Pavel," came the sleepy reply, "but I would like to be your Pasha."

"Pasha," McCoy repeated softly, liking the way the word felt on his tongue. He ruffled the soft curls and smiled at Pasha's slowly relaxing features as he fell into sleep.

For the first time on this journey, sleep came easily to McCoy too, and he was sure the smile was still on his lips as he gave into it.

~//~

"I knew you'd come around, Bones!" Jim Kirk smirked as his eyes found Chekov in amongst the sailors heaving on the main sheet.

McCoy frowned deeply, following his line of sight. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jim."

"Oh, I think you do," Jim told him, as they stood together on the bridge, watching the young man laughing and joking with the other crew members as they reeled in the sail. "Whatever the two of you have been up to in your cabin at night has certainly put him in good spirits of late."

Unable to admit anything to give Jim the satisfaction of being correct, McCoy growled back at him, "He's gained his sea legs and found friends amongst the crew. That's all; nothing more."

Jim's laughter at this caused several of the crew to turn in their direction, Chekov included. When he caught sight of Bones, his beautiful smile widened into a look that no one would mistake as anything but one of adoration. The expression made McCoy's brows smooth out in pleasure before he could catch himself. He looked away again as soon as he became aware of Jim's hand finding his shoulder and the man's low chuckle reached his ears.

"I can't say I expected any less; not this time. He's one of the prettiest and most agreeable lads I've had for a cabin boy – aside from Sulu – in some time," Jim murmured from inches away. "Not that Sulu is a cabin boy, but he functions beautifully as one late at night, as I'm sure you realise."

McCoy gave his captain and friend a sideways scowl. "And you will never let me forget it, will you?"

Jim squeezed his shoulder and let him go, his smile growing as he leered across the bridge towards Sulu. "There's nothing to be gained from denying oneself, Bones. And the boy evidently loves it. I knew he would! He adored you before he ever convinced you how willing he was. It was you he wanted all along! How is he, by the way? I'd love to see if he's as incredible as Sulu."

"I'm a doctor, not a performer, Jim! I'm not about to flaunt anything in front of you." He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Jim's words. His Pasha was so beautiful; McCoy's chest tightened at the idea of anyone touching the boy other than himself. "And if you lay so much as a finger on him, I won't be able to answer for my actions."

Jim laughed again, sounding delighted. "Oh, it's even better than I'd hoped. You are as smitten as he is."

McCoy folded his arms across his chest, allowing his gaze to flicker briefly in the direction of Chekov. He looked back at Jim's broad grin and shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his lips despite his reluctance to accept that it was Jim's persistence that had led to him being happier than he could recall in years. "I won't admit such a thing. But I will say this, Jim Kirk: a journey with you is never without adventure."

Jim's smirk quirked up even higher at one side. "Does that mean this won't be our last voyage together after all, then?

"If you keep this cabin boy on, Jim, I may just have to come along to keep an eye on him. I doubt you'd keep your hands off him for long if you travel without me."

Jim's eyes seemed to drift in Sulu's direction and McCoy drew his brows together, then lifted them in amazement as Sulu offered the man his own shy smile from under the hair blowing into his eyes from the soft breeze stirring around them.

"I don't believe it," McCoy muttered. "You, too?"

Jim turned back to him, his smirk still in evidence, but something bright and joyous that McCoy had never before seen in his eyes. Jim said nothing to answer McCoy's words, but after a moment he huffed a light laugh.

After a moment more, McCoy realised there was nothing he could do but clap his friend on the shoulder and join in with his contented laughter.

Truly, the most incredible things happened at sea.

~//~//~

  



End file.
